Looking In
by silent.imagination
Summary: A nation thought to be dead is found and reintroduced into the world of her kind. Pretty much... What it would be like to be an outsider looking into Hetalia! BoyXBoy, maybe a little GirlXBoy...Please review!
1. Chapter 1

_Author's Note: I actually do not really like the OC thing. I'm a very canon type of person. But I wanted to do an outsider's view of the Hetalia world and I couldn't do that using an existing character. My goal is to have as man characters as possible in this story without it seeming overcrowded!_

It wasn't that I was afraid or that I thought I was too weak. I was ashamed of the things I had done. Okay, and maybe I was a little weak, but I was mostly incognito because I felt that if I came back, not only would I not fit anywhere, I'd feel like I was something criminal. Obviously I was not and am not and will never be just the only one of my kind to commit atrocious acts or back something I thought was for good, but I, unlike most of the others, lacked true friends or something to offer. And before I knew it, I, the American South, was thought to be dead for more than a century. America should have known better.

It was hard to be a rogue of my kind. I don't age like normal humans and I still feel the effects of the economic conditions (I almost always have a cold), so I mainly just traveled around. It was when Hurricane Katrina hit New Orleans I saw him again. I was in Alabama at the time and once it happened, I rushed down to help out. I don't know why I didn't think to find some disguise. I saw so many blue-suited government men that I don't know why it didn't surprise me when I saw an unusually young one.

I hadn't seen him in forever, so I had to get a closer look. I trusted the fact that I was wearing a volunteer T-shirt and not a Confederate uniform or an antebellum dress. I trusted the fact he thought I had vanished into thin air like our kind do once we cease to exist. I remember the sunshine hitting his hair and they way he looked so concerned. His blue eyes were so serious behind the glint of his glasses. He looked a little older than when I saw him last. He looked a little less murderous, too. My stomach wrenched. I had deserved that.

He was talking to some of his men. For a moment I wanted to reach out and touch him, but I quickly shook the idea out of my mind. It was impossible. He probably still hated me. If he knew I still existed, I would probably be put under government supervision in some concrete cell in the deepest confines of the CIA building. But how could I not hate him like he so obviously hated me?

I wasn't paying attention. It was my fault I got too close to him. He turned around and the look on his face- He definitely recognized me. _America recognized me_. I ran and I dodged past other volunteers and the refugees. I ran through the streets lined with French-style pastel buildings and soon I had sweat pouring down me as I dodged into an alleyway.

I didn't know if he had followed me or not. I assumed he had. I mentally smacked myself; I was an idiot for running. I could have just told him I had a question and that I was some twenty-something girl from Georgia who was with her church group. America would have probably hit on me. I smiled, but it quickly disappeared. I heard footsteps. Loud ones. Suddenly the cobblestone turned into a muddy field. I could smell gunpowder and blood. My heart started racing while my body went into panic mode. I looked around desperately as men fell around me, their cries as clear and sharp as the sound of the cannons firing.

It didn't stop until everything started shaking. Had I been hit? I tried to focus, but everything turned to black.

"Hey, hey!" I lurched upward, smacking my head against something hard. It was America's head. "Damn it…." I tried jumping up, but he held me down.

"Just a second!" This was the first time I had seen his face this close for a very long time. The first time I had seen him since I was presumed dead was when I had managed to have a small apartment in Nashville. I was watching President Kennedy on the small TV when the camera panned out. Beside several men in black suits was a handsome young man I couldn't mistake anywhere.

I tried making eye contact, but my eyes couldn't stop wandering to his mouth as he stared at me blankly. "Who are you?"

"It doesn't matter. Let me go."

"Tell me."

"Let me go!"

"Tell me now!" This wasn't the first time he had yelled at me, but I flinched. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know how to explain.

"You know who I am."

I could tell he didn't believe me. One of his eyebrows was raised and he leaned back- but he didn't take his hands off of me. "No, it can't be you. I… You dropped and your men carried you off and…"

"They took me into a cave nearby. They knew I wasn't dead and they waited until I regained consciousness. I've never been dead. I've been… hiding." I looked away past his shoulder.

"I should have known…." America was still staring at me blankly. There remained a big divide between… Well, him. The South didn't necessarily belong to me anymore.

"Now let me go."

"No." My body froze. "You can't go."

"Why not? If I were planning some revolution, I wouldn't be here handing out food. I'm no longer one of your kind, America. Leave me alone."

"No, you are. You're just like Prussia."

Prussia? I tried to remember him. Some tall, German guy with red eyes. I only had a glimpse of him years and years ago when I attended a World meeting against America's orders.

"How…?"

"You could be taken like Russia took him. You could still rebel. But how to make you stay…"

"You do know your talking out loud, right?"

His eyes, the color of the sky, narrowed. "Listen, you could very well be taken hostage. That being said, I'm sure you've noticed that you can see through your hand." My eyes focused on my tan brace laying beside me. "You're disappearing. It's what happens to all nations after they stop existing. It can only slow down if you come with me."

He was right. I was starting to vanish with time. The lack of my involvement of the territory I was supposed to embody was causing me to die quicker. Something bubbled up in me, though. "I'm not going to let you imprison me."

"No…. I wouldn't. You can come live with me. You can just work for me."

His face was so serious and dutiful. This is what I loved about him. He was a goofball, but he knew how to manage himself. Maybe it was because of this I numbly shook my head yes. Maybe it was because I was so lonely. Whatever the reason, I found myself on a plane to Washington D.C. escorted by men with very large guns.

_There's about to be an explosion of drama and funniness and all sorts of good stuff. It'll be fun describing all the characters! Hopefully this was a good beginning. Please review! I kind of want at least three or four before I continue, but... Thank you for reading!_


	2. Chapter 2

_Author's Note: I know I said three or four reviews, but the pick up has been slow AND I don't know when I'll be able to write again. Once again, I don't know about this whole OC thing..._

There were no other words about this but awkward. I was moving into a man's house that previously tried to kill me. America opened the door to a small, pretty non-descript bedroom. We had arrived to his house not too long ago and I was impressed he had kept it up that well. The house was a white and brick colonial and was appropriately large for the human manifestation of America.

"This is your room!" He laughed nervously. I drifted into it. I had no belongings with me…. because I owned nothing. "I already ate, but…. the kitchen is open." I nodded. I was used to not eating regularly and at this point, I simply wanted to sleep. "My brother- Canada…. Do you remember him? Well, anyway, he might drop by later." I remembered Canada a bit. When I would visit France, he'd be over occasionally. I knew that during the Civil War, he and America weren't that close. He always struck me as a nice guy, but a bit of a bore.

"I'll probably just sleep for the rest of the night."

America laughed unsteadily. "Well, in that case, we need to be at the hotel at eight…."

"I got it." I closed the door on him. The sun was setting and through the window, lavender light lit up the room dimly. The house smelled old and I sat stiffly at the end of a bed I was pretty sure had never been slept in. I was going to dread tomorrow. The hotel in question, at the moment, was filled with most of my kind. Nations, born to guard and manage the places they belong to. The huge meeting was to be held in the massive meeting room attached, where the world would duke it out.

I was to be the front desk girl. People would go through security and metal detectors then check in with me before they would be allowed to enter. This would be interesting and painfully uncomfortable. I wondered if anyone would recognize me. France and possibly Spain would. England definitely would, but he would probably act like he didn't.

I couldn't help but smile as I lay on my new bed. I might be a goose among chickens, but at least I was with other fowl.

* * *

><p>I was surprised America had already left. I thought he wouldn't want me out of his sight. But I guess the two gentlemen beside me with the guns sufficed as supervision… The black car I was being driven in stopped at a huge, but surprisingly basic hotel.<p>

It was when I walked in I felt ridiculously out of place. Not only did was I still wearing my T-shirt and jeans, I couldn't find any hair ties to tie my hair. I had snuck into America's bathroom like a ninja and took his brush. I had thought to put some mascara into my pocket before I left the motel room I was living in at a small town in Alabama, so at least I didn't look completely careless.

The muscular gentleman escorting me in sat me at the front desk in a modern, lavish room. He gave me a clipboard with names I didn't recognize. _Kiku Honda_? _Francis Bonnefoy_? I took a deep breath and leaned back. This was going to be a long day.

The double doors, guarded by men in black suits, opened and two men came in. One was tall and blonde, with muscles the size of my head. His hair was slicked back, and while his face was decidedly handsome, it was stern. The man beside him was small and Asian with a much more slighter body. He had jet black hair that hung a little in his eyes and he was talking very softly, almost above a whisper. It was too quiet to catch what he was saying much less the language, but the way he was examining me made me think it had to be about the girl that was supposed to be dead.

"Germany." I looked at him. His eyes were a pretty shade of blue, but there was something deep and a little cloudy about them. His accent was thick. I looked at the list. All these were names obviously from around the world, but none were just the names of countries. _Shit_.

I looked frantically at the list. My face was probably bright red and I could feel their eyes on me. _Ludwig_…. Like Beethoven. Great. _Check_. "Go ahead!" I smiled. Crisis adverted.

"Japan." Man, he was a soft talker. He looked a little kinder than Germany, but exasperated non the least.

"Oh, um…. Im Yong Su?"

He looked at me like I had lost my mind. "Kiku Honda," he said stiffly. I flinched.

My face was still burning even when the door opened again. I was greeted by a loud shout of _MON CHER_! Before I knew it, there was a man wearing too much cologne squeezing me. He let go. "Oh, I thought you were dead! All I could remember was you as a little one and when I found out… I was so sad. I'm so sorry I couldn't help you more, but…" France's eyes unfocused.

"It's okay. It was for the best." France smiled. He had grown a little scruff since I had seen him and his hair was longer. I felt myself blush. He was good-looking in a "I know what I'm doing" sort-of-way.

He brushed my hair back and I felt light-headed. "_You've gotten so beautiful! I forgot how pretty you are_," he said in French. I giggled nervously. "_Oh, but did you know you're the talk of everyone now?_"

I shook my head, too flushed to speak. "France, you're scaring the poor girl!" A tall, pale man with violet eyes and glasses approached the desk. His brown hair was slicked back like the German, but he had a hair that stuck up. Something about him screamed elegance and pomposity.

"Oh, Austria! I was just welcoming her back!"

"In an inappropriate manner." The man- Austria- had a refined accent. There was a woman beside him I hadn't noticed.

"Do I need to beat him up for you?" she asked good-naturedly. I smiled at her. She was pretty, with long, light brown flowing hair and bright green eyes. There was something hardy about her and the suit she was wearing seemed foreign on her. I pictured her in a horse-rider's outfit. "Hungary." I looked tiredly at the list.

"Um, there aren't those kind of names like that on here." I felt my face burn up again.

"Oh! Let me see!" France took the clipboard. "These are our human names. We just started using them not too long ago so we can live more safely. Mine is Francis Bonnefoy. Hungary's fake name is Elizabeta Héderváry. Austria's is Roderich Edelstein."

I checked them all off. They started to the door. "I'll see you again, mon cher! I want to know what you will be doing now that you're here again!" I waved.

"The nosy gossip… It's nice to meet you,….?"

"Um…. Just call me Dixie, if you want."

"Dixie! Welcome back, Dixie!" Hungary smiled and Austria nodded to me curtly. They entered the double doors next to me. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. I looked at the clock and then the massive list. There were still way too many names.

_YES, there are dividers now. Or maybe they were there this whole time and I haven't noticed. Anyway, Japan didn't mean to be so stiff. He just didn't expect to be called Korea's name XD You have to keep in mind that Dixie (this is the name that the South is called affectionately in America) is very isolated in some ways (both in this story and real life), so she would have no idea the differences between a Korean name and a Japanese name (though I understand they're quite different). The French also had a big effect on culture in the South, FYI. The state of Louisiana still operates under Napoleonic law and many people from there speak a type of French. __I hope this is okay! Thank you for reading. Please review! If you have any suggestions, feel free to tell me. Expect maybe... Some Nordic stuff and eventually some cooperation with Sealand next if I continue._


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